You Know I Do
by 4amsecrets
Summary: She knows what she has to do. He thinks she's completely out of her mind, or will be soon, literally. You probably didn't think about that line much when you watched the movie. But I did.
1. Chapter 1

So I was watching the movie for the 394th time, and I was possessed by the idea of a back story for that line "You know I do" whether one already exists, this is what I imagine happened. So I hope you enjoy, and if you don't, well then this is awkward.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot, but I've been talking to Marvel recently, and despite their refusal to give me more rights, I will not back down until I own Loki…muahahaha _

"You don't understand. Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Take you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?

"You know that I do."

A memory quickly flashed before his eyes, and he was about to apologize when she shot him a warning glance not to pursue the subject. He knew what was going through her mind, and he noticed that her hands clenched and she shifted slightly. He brought the subject back to Loki, but there was a slight vagueness about her, as if she was somewhere else.

It had been early in the morning after her and Barton's first mission, when they finally shuffled out of the plane, covered in mud and blood. They had just returned from Russia, after successfully killing the vice chairman of the Red Rooms. Natasha staggered into bed and closed her eyes. Raw emotional pain coursed through her veins, making her stomach churn. She laid there quietly for what seemed like hours, before she stumbled out of bed and wandered about the base, eventually collapsing against a cold stone wall. She felt numb, not knowing how to deal with what she had done. She was supposed to be the ice-cold Russian with no heart, not some weakling who went insane over killing somebody. She remembered a petrified-looking girl coming up to her slowly, asking her in a small voice if she was OK. But her words fell on deaf ears, and she soon gave up and walked away. She was soon replaced by a worried Coulson who led her to Fury's office and gently shoved her in. Light flooded into the room, making it annoyingly bright, and she waited impatiently for the Director to turn around. And when he did, he gave her an exhausted look and told her to sit. She did so mechanically, practically falling into the nearest chair. He looked at her expectedly. "I killed my…a…fri…friend….Red-Rooms…I pro...promised…" Her usually smooth voice stumbled over her words, her expression much like that of a lost calf. "Why?" he asked her sharply. She resumed her regular composure as part of her brain took control. "She was taken to a part of the Red Rooms that was run by a psychopathic mind-butcherer. I grew up with her, understand that. Not all of us were bad. Especially her. She refused to kill, she openly spoke of defecting, and so they sent her to Grigori Razin. He reprograms minds. Makes you believe what they want you to believe. He cuts out parts of your memory, puts new ideas in. You come out a completely different person. It takes a few days, weeks even for it to take effect. Depending on how hard you fight to control yourself. She fought for far too long; by the time I got to her…she had suffered far too much. I made her a promise that I would be the one to put her out of her misery. And I did just that. He'll be after me now. Now that he knows that I'm no longer under the protection of the Red Rooms, he'll want my brain in a gold-plated jar on his desk. He's tried to before, but the Red Rooms refused to give up their best agent for science. But they'll be more than happy to hand me over to Razin now. So I have to kill him before he kills me I guess." She finished with a shrug, the soul-crushing sadness now quickly fading, and the reality of her eminent demise now took over her mind. "Do you know what you have to do?" She nodded. "_Can _you?" "I can sure as hell try." She replied, before getting up and stalking out of his office. She reached her room and scowled at its disarray. For having so few possessions, her room should've been much neater than its current state. She disregarded the mess and slumped at her desk and booted up the standard laptop that had been given to her on her first day. She spent the next hour writing out her case report, her fingers flying on the keyboard. She then took a scalding hot shower, dressed in her uniform, and found her way to the medical ward.

She was ushered into a private room where a fat, folksy, and boisterous doctor greeted her. She smiled, revealing blindingly white teeth. She gestured to the chair that sat opposite of her, and Natasha sat down slowly. "Now what do we have here?" adjusted her glasses and looked down at her chart. "Gunshot wound…nasty business…various lacerations…possible concussion...no infections so far, it seems. Which is good, so there's no need to lop off your arm yet dear." She peered at Natasha, squinting slightly. "Hmm. Ya seems tough enough. Now give me your arm dear, palm up… there we go." She whipped syringe out of her pocket, fitted it with a needle and had it inserted into a vein and out before even the slightest bit of pain began to register. "No pain right? That's why they give me to all the best agents. Can't have them complaining about sore injection sites while their trying to take down the baddies now can we? There you go dear, just a small bandage to make it feel better. I'm all for the placebo effect, ya know. Hmm. Nasty scratch you got there. What do you think…butterfly bandage? Yes that will work quite nicely." She indicated to the gaping wound at the crown of Romanoff's head. The doctor seemed to talk directly to Natasha, but she spoke so rapidly that she really could only be talking to herself. She swabbed a cleansing wipe over the cut, and then deftly placed the bandage over the wound. "There we go dear. All cleaned up. Those are your two main wounds I would hope…anything worse than that and I would send you off to surgery!" She chuckled, leaving Natasha to feel slightly bewildered. "Now that shot will make sure that you won't get an infection, nasty, nasty, nasty those are. I think you being a super agent and all you already removed the bullet?" Natasha weakly nodded her head. "I don't know why they teach you that. As long as it didn't hit a major artery, it's not vitally important that you pull the bullet out. But ah well, at least you didn't make it any worse. Probably felt better to have a white-hot piece of lead out of your little shoulder anyway didn't it dear?" She smiled again and inspected the wound before sighing dejectedly. "You are very interesting, and very uninteresting at the same time Miss Romanoff. You come in here with injuries that would be life-threatening to any other agents and then just sit here looking almost bored to death. Disappointing indeed dear. I'll assume that that fancy potion-serum-gunk in you will take care of these in record time? Back up and around tomorrow I bet. Well…I see no reason for you to stick around…keep both of 'em clean ya hear? Don't go messin' up my work either because they feel better. Just take it easy darling. Now go rest up, or look at those funny little cats with the misspelled captions on the Internet. A nice good sleep and a good, long laugh are always the best medicines, as I always say. And I'm rarely wrong. Now go on, get outta here dear." She pushed her out of the office and the sound of her madly scribbling down notes on her chart was cut off.

A dainty, but tight-lipped nurse led her down a stretch of hallway, where she was once again ushered into a room, pushed back on a table, and was given a CT scan. The nurse drummed her fingers on the machine, giving the occasional sigh. As soon as Natasha reappeared, the nurse gruffly hauled her into a wheelchair, and quickly brought her up to Natasha's room. "Don't do anything stupid, scan results should be up to you in a couple of hours." She dumped her outside her room and speed-walked away.

So there you are, lovely people, I hope you enjoyed. I will try my very best to get a second chapter up soon! In the meantime, R&R, and remember that I enjoy your comments and constructive criticism immensely, those who do will receive a fire-breathing llama in an Iron-Man suit.


	2. Chapter 2

Here we are again lovelies! Hope you like it!

She lounged in her lumpy bed for the rest of the day, watching crappy daytime television. As the _Days of Our Lives _theme played for the twentieth time that day, somone knocked on her door. She flicked on the light and stumbled out of bed as the blood rushed to her head. She groggily opened up the door to find BArton holding two grocery bags. "What are doing?" She asked cautiously, eyeing the bags. "Its just something I do after every mission. Come on, we're going to the roof." He turned around and left Natasha scrambling for her boots. She clambered through a main ventilation shaft, and pulled herself up onto the roof. _Damn Fury and his chronic case of paranoia. _She thought to herself as she brushed off her hands. Fury had closed off all main entrances to the roof when he became Director. "Are you going to tell me why I'm up here and you're holding two plastic bags...and why you're grinning like that..." She trailed off as Barton opened up the first bag and pulled out an extra large container of vanilla pudding. "What the hell Barton?" He threw her a look, but ignored her question and opened the second bag. Fruit spilled out of the bag and on the asphalt roof. "Pudding or fruit?" He offered, holding out a large spoon in one hand and a small watermelon in the other. "Pudding..." She replied, and cautiously accepted the spoon and pudding. "It's not going to kill you, Romanoff. Just throw the pudding off the roof." He dramatically dropped a pineapple over the side of the building. It exploded on impact and chunks of the yellow fruit bombarded the building opposite them. "See? It's fun. Your turn." She opened up the container and gingerly scooped a dollop onto the spoon. Barton gave an exaperated sigh and gestured for her to continue. She let the goop fall of the spoon, only to see it plop onto the low brick barrier in front of her. She took a small glance at Barton, then looked at the pudding, and then tipped the entire container over the side of the building. She emitted a small sound, something between a yelp and a laugh as the beige-colored treat splattered in all directions. As she reached for a small case of peaches the lights in the building across from them flickered on. "What do they even use that building anyway?" She asked Barton. "That one? They don't really use it that often. They only really use it when there are special meetings and stuff like that. Fury must have called an emergency conference and wanted privacy." He shrugged. She watched as the peach spiraled down to the ground, and glanced into the window that was lit up. A darkend figure paced back and forth and something caught her eye. A chill ran down her spine. She stooped to pick up a watermelon and quietly spoke. "Barton. That's not Fury." "What? What are you talking about?" "Sniper."

He stood still, unmoving, and she wasn't even sure he was breathing. She rose and casually tossed a small melon from hand to hand. "Why is it always us?" She asked jokingly, her head facing away from the lighted window. Barton gave a shaky laugh and dropped the fruit he had been holding. A second later the sniper took his shot and the bullet planted itself within the watermelon. Barton tackled her, while simultaneously reaching into the pile of fruit and pulling out his bow. "Gun, Romanoff, your gun!" She looked at he bewilderedly. "I..I..I don't have it!" "Years of Russian spy training and they don't even teach you to bring a gun everywhere you go?" "I was dragged up here unexpectedly!" She shot back. "Then stay down." He knocked an arrow. "You can't possibly hit him from this far away" "They don't call me the best marksman in the world for nothing." A second bullet clipped the barrier and Barton rolled away. He popped up and his eyes scrutinized the glass window the sniper had been behind moments before. He let the arrow fly and dropped down. The arrow slipped between a crack in the glass and the figure fell. "Move Romanoff!" She flung open the air vent and dropped down inside. A third bullet embedded itself in the wall in front of Barton and he quickly ducked inside, slamming the vent back in place. "That was some shitty sniper." Natasha growled, leaning up against a water pipe. Barton nodded in response. Natahsa started to make her way down the iron wrungs. "Snipers always have partners. And we can't just let a sniper walk off base." She pushed her way through the ceiling tile and landed nimbly on the floor below. "You get Coulson, Fury, Hill, anybody, tell them what's going on. Put the building on lock-down. No one gets in or out of the base." She barked at Barton as she started to sprint down the hall. "And where are you off to?" He called after her. She paused for a milisecond before calling over her shoulder gruffly, "To get my gun."

"What the hell do you mean a sniper is on base?" bellowed Fury. He pressed a button on his desk and a red light flashed briefly. The sound of all the exit doors being sealed off echoed throughout the building. "Take Romanoff and get this handled. I want to know who got into the base so easily." "Yes sir." Replied Barton before jogging out of the room. He met up with Natasha, who had manged to throw on her jumpsuit and grab her gun in a few short minutes, and together they made thier way across the compound. "Where do you think he is?" Barton asked as they passed a training center. "The closest exit from the conference building." She replied. They reached the alley strewn with pudding and fruit chunks and stopped. "Which way? There's one exit that way, and then there's another down there." Romanoff glanced quickly down each alley. "We have to split up." Barton panted before sprinting away. Natasha crept around the corner, gun first. She felt something pierce her neck, making her vision go blurry. She stumbled and fired her gun at random before everything went black.

Dun. DUN. DUUUUUUN. Remember to review, it really helps me write more often! And you will receive my famous internet cookies!


	3. Chapter 3

Enjoy, lovelies!

As the drug started to take affect, her gun fell from her fingers and clattered to the cement. she was thrown roughly over a shoulder, and a potato sack was pulled over her head. She was then shoved into the back of a semi trailer where she was stripped of her body suit, leaving her in her in a thin tank top and shorts. A rusty metal chain was wrapped around her wrists and ankles and then was attached to a metal hoop at the back of the van. She heard heavy boots on the metal floor, and moments later the she felt one collide with he chest. She dropped to her knees as her ribs cracked and shattered, mumbling a string of curses under her breath. The sack was removed from over her head and a velvety, but cruel voice spoke, echoing around the small space, "Вставай, мисс Романова". She looked up and a chilling smile crossed her lips. "Так он начинает."

Barton stealthily crept down the alley, scanning every inch of brick for attackers. He had almost reached the end when he heard a gun go off. He turned around and cautiously approached the place where Natasha had just been standing. the dropped gun caught his eye. "Nat? Natasha? Shit. Fury is going to kill me." He mumbled. He swept the rest of the area, but eventually had to trudge back to Furry's office. Coulson met up with him in the hallway, holding up a thin file. "Romanoff's signal just went offline." "Fury isn't going to like this." Coulson gave him a some-what reassuring smile and power-walked off. Barton rapped on the door and after a few seconds let himself into Fury's office. The office was empty, but a single piece of paper lay on Fury's desk. "Grigori Razin: Psychology, Lobotomy, and Neurology specialist" was scrawled on it in Fury's hand writing. "This is really bad. Really really bad." He muttered to the room. He folded it up and stuck into his jacket pocket. He flicked his com on and stalked through the empty hallways. "Coulson. I need to set up a mission. Solo. Keep it off the record, sir." He paused for a reply. "You sure you want to do this? I'm not so sure she's worth the trouble." "Stop sounding like Fury and get me a mission...sir." Barton replied.

He headed to the almost empty wing where his room was, and stopped short. He backed up a few paces and stopped in front of Natasha's door. _I'm really going to die when she finds out I did this. _He took out a blank plastic card and swiped it through the reader. The door eased open and he gingerly stepped into her room. Nothing seemed to be out of place, her bed was made with military precision, clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed, poison and perfume lined up on the dresser. _What are you hiding, hmmm? _He thought to himself as he picked through her things. There were some unfamiliar things he came across, a picture or two, a soviet-looking weapon, and...a laptop? He glanced at the standard SHIELD computer resting innocently on the desk, and then turned his gaze back to the small and thin one he held in his hands. He found the power button and to his surprise didn't ask him for some sort of identification or security code. When the desktop appeared, only three files appeared with it. "People I've killed" "People who want to kill me" and "Past missions". He browsed through them, trying not to invade her personal business too much, although, he was creeping around in her room already so it didn't really make much of a difference. The list of people she had killed was far longer than than the list of those who wanted to kill her, but that wasn't what he was looking for. He moved onto the "Past missions" file where he found an unsettling amount of sub-files. He scrolled for what seemed like hours, when he eventually found one marked "The Razin Files". He sifted through several different documents, each one was filled with more horror and gore than the last. He scribbled down the few facts he found on the back of the paper he hand found in Fury's office, carefully put the laptop back where he had found it, and fled the room.

For once in her life Natasha Romanoff was cold. The freezing metal floor beneath her told her that they had left temperate New York and were much farther north. There was a sudden shift and the truck stopped completely. The door to the trailer rumbled open, and gruff hands forced the sack over her head once again. The drivers worked on removing the metal hoop from the back, and she attempted to stretch. Her mind was blurry and she found it hard to keep her balance. whatever they had given her was powerful, advanced, it was like nothing she had ever seen. "Walk." Said one of the men in a thick accent, and pushed her forward with the toe of his boot. She toppled over and hit her head and the metal floor. The men roared with laughter as she shakily rolled to her feet. they yanked her out of the truck, and pushed her into what she guessed as the cargo hold of a small aircraft. Sure enough, moments later she felt the ground give way to air, and the metal hoop was reattached to the wall. Before leaving her alone, one of the men rasped, "Get settled in Romanova, you are going home." At least in here she could sit down, and it wasn't quite so cold. This she could handle, and as long as the drug was in her system it would be pointless to try and escape. She leaned back against the hull of the plane and checked herself for any serious injuries. Besides a few cracked ribs there wasn't really anything she was too concerned with. She strained her arm and started to painfully move her fingers through her snarled hair. Her fingers found a small bobby pin lodged in a particularly big knot and her arms were shaking from exertion. She gave it a less-than-gentle pull and it fell to her lap. She gently pinched the tip and it momentarily glowed soft blue. She held it close to her mouth and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "Barton?" She heard a small gasp. "Don't say anything. It's Razin. Track the coordinates...they should be coming in through now. I'll be fine for the next couple of hours." She ended the transmission as the plane hit a patch of turbulence. The pin flew out of her hands and slid across the floor. She sighed deeply and rested her head against the cool wall and closed her eyes. Whatever she was about to endure, she was going to need to be awake.

I hope you liked it! I'll try to update soon, but I don't know when I'll get the chance. Reviews always help me write faster though...*wink wink* *nudge nudge*


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